


Harry Potter and the Hives of Hogwarts

by Factitious



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Terra Ignota - Ada Palmer
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Gender, Hives, Insufferable Narrator, shitposting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:26:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23798422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Factitious/pseuds/Factitious
Summary: Harry Potter's chronicle of his experience in Hogwarts, a school for wizards where students freely choose from seven Hives.
Kudos: 9





	1. A Present to the Reader

It is with some justice, reader, that you come to this account ignorant not merely of the magical school Hogwarts, but of magic itself, for when I first arrived there, I myself shared your ignorance almost totally. This was not the usual condition for arrivals: of the 102 other students in my year, 95 had been aware their whole lives of the magical world I was entering. Even among those several who learned of it recently, the depth of my innocence was unusual. I prefer not to dwell on the early circumstances of my life, but I will appease your natural curiosity as far as saying that I was orphaned as an infant, raised in deprivation and abuse with no awareness of my birthright, and even when those styling themselves my guardians were informed that I had been called to attend Hogwarts—a call they could not, in the end, fully obstruct—they kept this knowledge from me as long as they were able. Suppress your sympathy. For our present purposes, this is a boon. You may now be introduced to the society I must describe by a narrator who remembers, all too well, what it was to come into it desperate for understanding.

Here, then, before the body of my tale, I will make you a present of some bare facts, ones I learned more gradually and without such stark presentation:

  1. Magic is real. Those who practice it are known as witches and wizards.
  2. I, Harry Potter, am a wizard myself, and an unusually powerful one.
  3. The reason the existence of magic surprises you is that the magical community has spent a great deal of effort on maintaining its secrecy.
  4. Those outside this community are, within it, termed Muggles.
  5. Magical Britain consists of a number of locations impossible for Muggles to enter or perceive, some surprisingly large.
  6. One such location is the castle Hogwarts, where children with the ability to perform magic are instructed in its use.
  7. Although even children of two Muggles can exhibit magical talent, my parents were a witch and a wizard.
  8. They were slain shortly after my birth by an individual infamous among wizarding society, feared to the extent that he is customarily referred to by the periphrastics “You-Know-Who” or “He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.”
  9. At that same time, You-Know-Who endeavored to kill me as well.
  10. My seemingly miraculous survival made me famous to the magical community, and the unknowing object of considerable speculation.
  11. Though You-Know-Who was vanquished, he was not destroyed, and his followers, the Death Eaters, remained active in secret.



There. You now have sufficient pieces of knowledge that I feel no guilt delivering the remainder at a comfortable pace. As you learn more, do not reproach me for leaving one item or another off this list. It is the prerogative of the author to decide what to reveal and when; I will do so always with your pleasure and edification in mind, though I may err.

But having presented you this gift, I fear I must now ask a favor of you in return, one you may grant or withhold as you desire. My writing is likely not in the style current within Muggle literature. My upbringing provided me few opportunities either for cooperative conversational partners, or for reading as widely as I would have desired. I was fluent and literate, within the bare meaning of both but no further, until I came to Hogwarts and was finally allowed to immerse myself in the language into which I had previously been permitted only hesitant steps. My linguistic flourishing in this environment, full of ancient tomes and magical paintings centuries old—for in Hogwarts, men and women in paintings may speak just as they did in life—has instilled in me certain habits of writing that I realize can, to other Muggleborn, appear slightly old-fashioned. I apologize for this, but certain exigencies of my circumstances while writing this, which I will explain to you in due course, make the task of editing myself into what your people would consider modern style impossible. This work could not be delayed. I beg you, take pity on me and, despite this deficiency of mine, delay not in reading.


	2. Held Back from Battle

We begin on the morning of September first in the year nineteen ninety-two. This day being the first of my second year as a student of Hogwarts, I was expected, as all students are expected, to present myself for the ceremonies through which the Headmaster welcomes us into the halls, formally enrolls us, expounds upon rules and customs of note, sups with us: in short, transforms the gathering children into a student body, an act of alchemy no less impressive than any other carried out on those ancient grounds. However, on this particular morning —

_ Wait, second year? What about your first, Harry? _

My apologies, reader. Of course you would be so dedicated as to wish to accompany me through my education from the beginning, to immerse yourself thoroughly, day by day. If only I could in turn be so dedicated a writer, to serve you as you desire! Sadly, I cannot. I do not serve you alone, much as we both might wish it. I have been tasked with presenting to you this particular period of my life. In vain did I protest that you would certainly have an interest in my awe when first I came to Hogwarts, my disorientation at being thrust among peers, my shock of learning You-Know-Who still lived. I expressed that for all those to whom I will introduce you, you would surely wish to meet them as I did, no later. I was overruled. Just as the slender tree that allows itself to bow beneath the force of a gale survives while others snap, so shall I bow. Rather than relating my time at Hogwarts in its entirety, as you surely desire, I will focus my narration on the times of greatest importance, heedless of all else. This must dismay you, and it is I alone who must beg your forgiveness. Were I a better author, or more properly, a better person, I would find a way to please all my masters, to bring their disparate needs into harmony. My failure to do so makes you appear at odds, but you must remember, this is appearance only.

To continue, then, on this particular morning, when by all rights I ought to have been boarding the private train reserved for students traveling to Hogwarts, I was instead outside the platform, barred from entering by an invisible barrier whose origin I could not fathom.

I was late already, owing to the malfeasance of my guardians. Repeatedly I had impressed on them the importance of my reaching the station safely in advance of the one departure time allotted to this strange and exclusive route. I offered to make my own travel arrangements here, pleaded with them to be allowed to do so, but they affected offense at the insinuation that they would be unable to convey me themselves. And indeed they were derelict in doing so, for I reached crowded King’s Cross Station mere minutes before the train was due to depart. Had I arrived earlier, I would not have had to run, and would not have struck the unseen barrier with such force.

I gathered up my fallen bags and rose back up to my feet almost before I had time to wonder what I collided into. It was a difficult question even once I had collected myself. Not, as you might think, simply due to the fact that the barrier was invisible. Spells which do not display themselves to our eyes are, while not the usual rule, hardly uncommon; several models of the defensive shield spells used by duelists have this property. But you have more senses than sight alone, and wizards one more than you: a direct apprehension of magic’s intrusion into our world. The barrier’s imperceptibility, most unusually, extended to this sense, as though no spell was present at all.

A brief touch with my hand confirmed that I was still unable to pass. I stepped back and watched other travelers, to see whether they would be similarly obstructed. My first sign to the contrary came from one of the students most familiar to me, returning from the platform.

If battle-hungry Achilles, forced into disguise at Skyros by his fearful mother Thetis, languishing for months in the court of Lycomedes, deprived of the chance to sail with the Achaeans to battle, if in the depths of his cosseted despair he heard word that Odysseus had arrived to the island, and knew immediately that one so cunning could not fail to discover the truth of his identity, though he knew not yet by what stratagem, his relief would be no less than what I felt now, seeing such a perfect answer to a prayer I had not yet begun to voice. Those who deny Providence may credit Hermione Granger, who, in her cleverness, probably directed Ron hither.


End file.
